Title: Of Something Once Pure
Author: Catalyst
Summary: Fallout from One Angry Veronica. But, to be honest, I’m not really sure where this is going yet.
Rating: Somewhere in the mature-ish range.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the title, which is from a song by The Thrills.
Author’s Note: I’ve got to warn you, I’m not sure how well Lilly is going to be portrayed in this. I’m going to tear her down in the beginning, and, honestly, I’m not sure if I’ll build her back up, so if you love Lilly, you might not like this. Of course, I love Lilly, so maybe I’ll be able to fix it.
Prologue
<i>Out of Order.</i>
Ten steps passed the girl’s bathroom, Logan pauses, turning back. He stumbles forward as someone runs into him, surprised by his sudden stop. The freshman mumbles under his breath, but Logan ignores him as he drifts towards the bathroom.
Obviously Veronica’s inside. That’s not what stopped him. Actually, he’d been going out of his way for days to avoid her. Not answering the door at the hotel. Showing up to his classes late. Parking at the burger place across the street so she couldn’t corner him at his car.
But that’s his out of order sign on the door. The same one he’d used to get her attention a month before.
When he’d asked her to save him from a murder conviction.
Maybe avoiding her wasn’t the best idea.
He pushes through the bathroom door just as the bell rings, and finds Veronica sitting on the sink of the bathroom, just as she had been when...
He cuts off his own thoughts as she jumps down, waving a manila folder in his direction.
“Great. Now I’m late for bio.” She rolls her eyes. “Thanks Logan. You sure stared at the door long enough.”
“Someone forgot her happy pills this morning,” he comments, side stepping her and propping himself on the counter. “Or are you just lonely with Duncan up in Napa with the ice queen? Thought you’d come and harass me some to fill your day?”
Her lips narrow into a straight line, her fists clenching before she releases a heavy breath. “I’m not doing this today, Logan. I’m done with all of this.” She walks to him, the folder held accusingly in her fingers. She slaps it against his chest before quickly turning and putting space between them. When he opens his mouth, she cuts him off. “That’s everything I’ve found out about the Fitzpatricks and Felix’s murder. I’m done, Logan. Save yourself.”
“Veronica,” he calls as she turns for the door. He stumbles off the counter, still holding the file to his chest.
“Don’t Logan,” she tells him, her voice tight. “I’m not doing this anymore. I won’t.”
“What-?”
“I almost died getting those tapes, damnit!” She spins around, her palm connecting with his chest hard enough to have him staggering back towards the sink. “He locked me in a refrigerator and tried to burn me alive because of those tapes, and you <i>erased</i> them!” Her breath is ragged as she tries to compose herself, and Logan steps forward, almost as if he wants to comfort her.
“Don’t,” she demands, stepping away from him again. “Don’t come near me, Logan. I’m done with this game. Just... stay away from me.” Before he can open his mouth, she’s gone, and the last thing he sees is her hand ripping the out of order sign off of the door.
TBC
Of Something Once Pure (VM) Mature - D & B
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Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 31
- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
- Location: Two stars left of Jupiter
Of Something Once Pure (VM) Mature - D & B
Last edited by Catalyst on Tue Mar 07, 2006 12:16 am, edited 9 times in total.
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Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 31
- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
- Location: Two stars left of Jupiter
Chapter One
AN: So I'm hoping to update this once a week, which seemed like a very doable plan during vacation, but now that vacation is ending... well, let's just see how it goes. I feel I should tell you, though, that this plan does involve short chapters. But they will be more frequent. And the next chapter is about half way done though, so here's to hoping I can stick to a schedule.
Chapter One
The room is empty when Logan bursts in, the door slamming roughly behind him as he crosses to his room. He throws Veronica’s manila folder onto the bed, watching the papers scatter in feigned interest.
He could hire someone else. A real P.I. this time.
The thought flies through his mind so fast it barely registers. If Veronica doesn’t do this for him, he’ll take the fall. No one else knows enough. No one else will believe him.
No one else will believe in him.
He scoffs at the thought. Veronica never believed in him. She's made that more than obvious. He was just another step towards Lilly’s killer. Just another step towards that taste of perfection that she’s been scrambling for ever since.
Then again, he’s not so sure why he believes in Veronica Mars anymore either. After all, she really believed it was perfect.
Maybe she’s not as good at this sleuthing business as he gives her credit for.
...
“Do you need a ride?” she asks him, pretending to riffle through her locker as though she isn’t waiting for him.
“Mom’s picking me up,” he tells her. “Door-to-door service because I can never leave the house again.” He starts to close his locker, and she scrambles for words.
“You are going to talk to me eventually, right, Wallace?” she asks, just as he starts to walk away. She hates that she’s pleading with him. Not because it’s him. She just hates the pleading part.
She’ll do it for him. She feels it’s the least she can do.
“Not today, V,” he murmurs.
“But this – this mess between us,” she rambles on, “it’s going to blow over, right?” Her head is still half-buried in her locker, because she can’t look at him when she does this. Pride can be a bitch sometimes.
“Veronica, just...” he pauses, and, in her peripheral vision, she sees his neck craning towards the door, “not today.” And then he disappears down the hallway, and she wonders how much longer a flicker of New Year’s hope will last.
...
Veronica doesn’t think of Logan on the drive home. She doesn’t think of him or Lilly or fire or murder, because she can’t – she won’t. She’s learning that sometimes she does get the news ten minutes too late, and, sometimes, there really is no way out.
The tapes are gone, and she can’t change that. She has other things to occupy her mind.
She hasn’t spoken to Wallace since New Year’s, minus a few obscure meetings in the hall when he couldn’t side-step her fast enough. She wanted to believe that it was all okay. That all he needed was a little vacation to forgive and forget, and all would be just as it had been.
Only real life doesn’t work that way. Veronica is beginning to realizing she’s wasting her life away trying to work backwards.
Solve Lilly’s murder; get your old life back. Only no, because the killer’s in jail, but Lilly’s still in the ground.
Without Lilly, it’s all so much more complicated.
Then there’s Duncan – her Duncan, but not really anymore. Now she knows there had always been a lie over her and Duncan – one huge, invisible lie towering over their heads – but they had still been innocent then. They hadn’t known. Now the lies are between them, woven into the tentative relationship that never seems to quite reach what it had been.
Her Duncan never lied to her. What’s happened to her Duncan?
Veronica’s begun to wonder if he ever really existed at all.
By the time Veronica pulls up to the curb beside her apartment, she’s almost convinced herself that she’s not really thinking about Logan, that he’s not haunting her like Lilly used to.
That she can really let go.
Two steps through her front door, and the lie crumbles around her.
“You might want to invest in a deadbolt,” Logan quips from his seat beneath Backup, “because your security detail seems to be slacking off.” Backup nudges Logan’s idle hand with his nose, insistently demanding more attention and ignoring Veronica’s entrance.
“How did you get in here?”
“For a P.I. family, your spare key is not very discreet.”
“Logan.” Veronica’s voice is low and dangerous. “We don’t have a spare key.”
Logan’s eyes widen theatrically before he smirks at her. “Hmm. I guess the window must’ve been open.”
”This isn’t funny, Logan. You need to get out of my house.” Veronica reaches for the leash that hangs beside the door, and Backup suddenly takes notice and bounds towards her. “I want you gone when I get back.”
She has her hand on the doorknob when he speaks again.
“You’re really going to let them fry me for this?” he questions. “You know that I didn’t do it, Veronica. You’re not that much of a bitch.”
“Wow, Logan,” Veronica tells him, barely turning from the door as Backup tugs at her arm. “Your flattery needs some work.”
“The tapes were nothing. You know that.”
“Those tapes were everything,” Veronica throws back.
“You grew up in law enforcement, Veronica,” Logan says softly. “If you’d just wake up, you’d realize they have no chance against him. He’s going to crush them, regardless of those tapes.”
“They have him for statutory rape at the very least,” Veronica argues. “It was something.”
“Wow,” Logan deadpans. “So you nearly killed yourself to get him a few hours of community service?” Veronica opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. “Think about it, Veronica. He has the best lawyers in the country, and people love him. They won’t hesitate to bring everything about Lilly out in the open, and you think people are really going to believe that this is all on him? They have nothing against him.”
“Now they don’t.” She puts her hand back on the doorknob. “Thanks to you.”
“I didn’t delete the tapes, Veronica.” Logan stands from the couch, and Veronica moves away from the door numbly as he steps closer. They both ignore Backup’s soft whimper. “Maybe when you clear out of this denial stage you seem to be in, you’ll feel like knowing why.”
And before she can say another word, he leaves her gaping at the empty doorway.
Chapter One
The room is empty when Logan bursts in, the door slamming roughly behind him as he crosses to his room. He throws Veronica’s manila folder onto the bed, watching the papers scatter in feigned interest.
He could hire someone else. A real P.I. this time.
The thought flies through his mind so fast it barely registers. If Veronica doesn’t do this for him, he’ll take the fall. No one else knows enough. No one else will believe him.
No one else will believe in him.
He scoffs at the thought. Veronica never believed in him. She's made that more than obvious. He was just another step towards Lilly’s killer. Just another step towards that taste of perfection that she’s been scrambling for ever since.
Then again, he’s not so sure why he believes in Veronica Mars anymore either. After all, she really believed it was perfect.
Maybe she’s not as good at this sleuthing business as he gives her credit for.
...
“Do you need a ride?” she asks him, pretending to riffle through her locker as though she isn’t waiting for him.
“Mom’s picking me up,” he tells her. “Door-to-door service because I can never leave the house again.” He starts to close his locker, and she scrambles for words.
“You are going to talk to me eventually, right, Wallace?” she asks, just as he starts to walk away. She hates that she’s pleading with him. Not because it’s him. She just hates the pleading part.
She’ll do it for him. She feels it’s the least she can do.
“Not today, V,” he murmurs.
“But this – this mess between us,” she rambles on, “it’s going to blow over, right?” Her head is still half-buried in her locker, because she can’t look at him when she does this. Pride can be a bitch sometimes.
“Veronica, just...” he pauses, and, in her peripheral vision, she sees his neck craning towards the door, “not today.” And then he disappears down the hallway, and she wonders how much longer a flicker of New Year’s hope will last.
...
Veronica doesn’t think of Logan on the drive home. She doesn’t think of him or Lilly or fire or murder, because she can’t – she won’t. She’s learning that sometimes she does get the news ten minutes too late, and, sometimes, there really is no way out.
The tapes are gone, and she can’t change that. She has other things to occupy her mind.
She hasn’t spoken to Wallace since New Year’s, minus a few obscure meetings in the hall when he couldn’t side-step her fast enough. She wanted to believe that it was all okay. That all he needed was a little vacation to forgive and forget, and all would be just as it had been.
Only real life doesn’t work that way. Veronica is beginning to realizing she’s wasting her life away trying to work backwards.
Solve Lilly’s murder; get your old life back. Only no, because the killer’s in jail, but Lilly’s still in the ground.
Without Lilly, it’s all so much more complicated.
Then there’s Duncan – her Duncan, but not really anymore. Now she knows there had always been a lie over her and Duncan – one huge, invisible lie towering over their heads – but they had still been innocent then. They hadn’t known. Now the lies are between them, woven into the tentative relationship that never seems to quite reach what it had been.
Her Duncan never lied to her. What’s happened to her Duncan?
Veronica’s begun to wonder if he ever really existed at all.
By the time Veronica pulls up to the curb beside her apartment, she’s almost convinced herself that she’s not really thinking about Logan, that he’s not haunting her like Lilly used to.
That she can really let go.
Two steps through her front door, and the lie crumbles around her.
“You might want to invest in a deadbolt,” Logan quips from his seat beneath Backup, “because your security detail seems to be slacking off.” Backup nudges Logan’s idle hand with his nose, insistently demanding more attention and ignoring Veronica’s entrance.
“How did you get in here?”
“For a P.I. family, your spare key is not very discreet.”
“Logan.” Veronica’s voice is low and dangerous. “We don’t have a spare key.”
Logan’s eyes widen theatrically before he smirks at her. “Hmm. I guess the window must’ve been open.”
”This isn’t funny, Logan. You need to get out of my house.” Veronica reaches for the leash that hangs beside the door, and Backup suddenly takes notice and bounds towards her. “I want you gone when I get back.”
She has her hand on the doorknob when he speaks again.
“You’re really going to let them fry me for this?” he questions. “You know that I didn’t do it, Veronica. You’re not that much of a bitch.”
“Wow, Logan,” Veronica tells him, barely turning from the door as Backup tugs at her arm. “Your flattery needs some work.”
“The tapes were nothing. You know that.”
“Those tapes were everything,” Veronica throws back.
“You grew up in law enforcement, Veronica,” Logan says softly. “If you’d just wake up, you’d realize they have no chance against him. He’s going to crush them, regardless of those tapes.”
“They have him for statutory rape at the very least,” Veronica argues. “It was something.”
“Wow,” Logan deadpans. “So you nearly killed yourself to get him a few hours of community service?” Veronica opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off. “Think about it, Veronica. He has the best lawyers in the country, and people love him. They won’t hesitate to bring everything about Lilly out in the open, and you think people are really going to believe that this is all on him? They have nothing against him.”
“Now they don’t.” She puts her hand back on the doorknob. “Thanks to you.”
“I didn’t delete the tapes, Veronica.” Logan stands from the couch, and Veronica moves away from the door numbly as he steps closer. They both ignore Backup’s soft whimper. “Maybe when you clear out of this denial stage you seem to be in, you’ll feel like knowing why.”
And before she can say another word, he leaves her gaping at the empty doorway.
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Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 31
- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
- Location: Two stars left of Jupiter
Chapter Three
AN: So, today has been... unpleasant. And feedback makes me feel better, so I thought that I would come back early with the next update. And, good news, chapter three is almost finished too. Bad news... apparently the T on my keyboard is being finicky, so if there are any strange words in here, try inserting a T... I probably missed it.
Anyway, on with the chapter, and feel free to leave a message that will make this day better. . .
Chapter Two
Two blocks from hotel, and Veronica’s locked in her car, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. She can see the room, the silhouetted figure that can only be Logan perched against the kitchen windowsill. He’s watching her, waiting for her.
Waiting for her to what? She’s terrified that she’ll start moving and he’ll disappear again. She’ll take the elevator, he’ll take the stairs, and by the time she’s realized that the room is empty, he’ll vanish like all of the promises they made each other.
She’s not ready to let herself believe in Logan Echolls again. Something always winds up broken when she does. She’s tired of being broken.
When are things going to be whole again?
But Veronica’s never been good at sitting and waiting. So what if Logan runs? She’s tracked him down before; she can do it again. Besides, while his car may have many off-roading capabilities that are far beyond the little Le Baron, the pompous yellow is never hard to find.
Of course, none of that matters much, since he’s waiting when she lets herself into the hotel room.
“Took you long enough,” Logan mutters from the couch. “And here I was, doubting your backbone. You sure showed me, Veronica.”
“Go to hell, Logan.”
“And what a comeback,” he mocks. “I do think you could’ve done better.” He pauses, his eyes appraising. “On a lot of things, as a matter of fact.”
“You know why I’m here, Logan. I’m not wasting my time on this.”
“Yes!” Logan says, bounding off of the couch and towards the doorway where Veronica hovers. “The tapes. Now, was I the first on your list, or have you already been by to yell at your little deputy friend? Because, for once, I think even you can admit that this was not all my fault.”
“Logan, why did you buy them?”
“Well, the celebrity porn biz has been a bit slow lately,” Logan drawls, his ever-present smirk stretched across his face, “and, would you believe that all of the other family videos were in storage?” He pauses, crossing the room again and leaning against the entertainment center. “I thought it might be a little tough to get the key, what with my house being ash and all.” He smirks at her. “But you wouldn’t care about that. After all, your specialty is getting the motorcycle gang out of jail. Your father would be so proud.”
Veronica sighs. “I don’t have time for this. Show your cards, Logan, or I’m leaving.”
“I’m not giving you the tapes.”
“So what am I doing here?” She sighs, running her hand through her hair in a show of pure exhaustion. She lowers her eyes, muttering to herself. “Why do I keep wasting my time on this?”
Her comment stings more than he shows as he carefully brushes past her and disappears into his room.
“I told you, Veronica,” Logan answers, his voice dulled by the space between them. “You’re not that much of a bitch.”
“Very eloquent, Logan.” She watches as he reappears, this time holding a small tin box. He sets it on the coffee table, and gestures for Veronica to move to the couch. Suppressing an eye roll, she obliges and watches as he pulls a chain from around his neck. A deadbolt key hangs from the end, and Veronica watches him fit it to the lock on the box. Four tapes lay inside, unmarked, but not unrecognizable. It would take her a lifetime to forget those tapes.
“And the copies?” Veronica questions.
“I had to delete something for you father.”
“God, Logan, why?” Veronica’s eyes find his, and her gentle plea almost cracks his detached veneer.
Instead, Logan abruptly snaps the box closed, pulling the key away and walking back towards his room. He’s back in a second, and Veronica pictures the box, locked yet unhidden, sitting on his bed.
“You really want to know why, Veronica?” His question snaps her attention back to him.
The question, the look, the strange absence of a smirk on his somber face is enough to make Veronica wonder.
Do I want to know?
Really?
“Of course I do,” she tells him, her voice masked with false bravado to distract from her pause. “Why would you want to help him like this?”
“It’s not even about him.” Logan smirks, but it’s dark and foreboding. “It’s about her. It’s all about her.” He pauses. “You, of all people, should know that.”
“Lilly? You’re trying to protect Lilly?” Veronica’s brows knit together. “Logan, Lilly wouldn’t care if those tapes got out. She would’ve wanted people to know the truth.”
“Exactly,” Logan murmurs, his voice low yet unmistakably hard. “This is exactly what she would’ve wanted. And she doesn’t deserve it.”
TBC. . . And now is the time to bail if you don't want to see Lilly drug through the mud. I do love that character, though, so who knows? Maybe there's redemption down he line.
Anyway, on with the chapter, and feel free to leave a message that will make this day better. . .
Chapter Two
Two blocks from hotel, and Veronica’s locked in her car, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. She can see the room, the silhouetted figure that can only be Logan perched against the kitchen windowsill. He’s watching her, waiting for her.
Waiting for her to what? She’s terrified that she’ll start moving and he’ll disappear again. She’ll take the elevator, he’ll take the stairs, and by the time she’s realized that the room is empty, he’ll vanish like all of the promises they made each other.
She’s not ready to let herself believe in Logan Echolls again. Something always winds up broken when she does. She’s tired of being broken.
When are things going to be whole again?
But Veronica’s never been good at sitting and waiting. So what if Logan runs? She’s tracked him down before; she can do it again. Besides, while his car may have many off-roading capabilities that are far beyond the little Le Baron, the pompous yellow is never hard to find.
Of course, none of that matters much, since he’s waiting when she lets herself into the hotel room.
“Took you long enough,” Logan mutters from the couch. “And here I was, doubting your backbone. You sure showed me, Veronica.”
“Go to hell, Logan.”
“And what a comeback,” he mocks. “I do think you could’ve done better.” He pauses, his eyes appraising. “On a lot of things, as a matter of fact.”
“You know why I’m here, Logan. I’m not wasting my time on this.”
“Yes!” Logan says, bounding off of the couch and towards the doorway where Veronica hovers. “The tapes. Now, was I the first on your list, or have you already been by to yell at your little deputy friend? Because, for once, I think even you can admit that this was not all my fault.”
“Logan, why did you buy them?”
“Well, the celebrity porn biz has been a bit slow lately,” Logan drawls, his ever-present smirk stretched across his face, “and, would you believe that all of the other family videos were in storage?” He pauses, crossing the room again and leaning against the entertainment center. “I thought it might be a little tough to get the key, what with my house being ash and all.” He smirks at her. “But you wouldn’t care about that. After all, your specialty is getting the motorcycle gang out of jail. Your father would be so proud.”
Veronica sighs. “I don’t have time for this. Show your cards, Logan, or I’m leaving.”
“I’m not giving you the tapes.”
“So what am I doing here?” She sighs, running her hand through her hair in a show of pure exhaustion. She lowers her eyes, muttering to herself. “Why do I keep wasting my time on this?”
Her comment stings more than he shows as he carefully brushes past her and disappears into his room.
“I told you, Veronica,” Logan answers, his voice dulled by the space between them. “You’re not that much of a bitch.”
“Very eloquent, Logan.” She watches as he reappears, this time holding a small tin box. He sets it on the coffee table, and gestures for Veronica to move to the couch. Suppressing an eye roll, she obliges and watches as he pulls a chain from around his neck. A deadbolt key hangs from the end, and Veronica watches him fit it to the lock on the box. Four tapes lay inside, unmarked, but not unrecognizable. It would take her a lifetime to forget those tapes.
“And the copies?” Veronica questions.
“I had to delete something for you father.”
“God, Logan, why?” Veronica’s eyes find his, and her gentle plea almost cracks his detached veneer.
Instead, Logan abruptly snaps the box closed, pulling the key away and walking back towards his room. He’s back in a second, and Veronica pictures the box, locked yet unhidden, sitting on his bed.
“You really want to know why, Veronica?” His question snaps her attention back to him.
The question, the look, the strange absence of a smirk on his somber face is enough to make Veronica wonder.
Do I want to know?
Really?
“Of course I do,” she tells him, her voice masked with false bravado to distract from her pause. “Why would you want to help him like this?”
“It’s not even about him.” Logan smirks, but it’s dark and foreboding. “It’s about her. It’s all about her.” He pauses. “You, of all people, should know that.”
“Lilly? You’re trying to protect Lilly?” Veronica’s brows knit together. “Logan, Lilly wouldn’t care if those tapes got out. She would’ve wanted people to know the truth.”
“Exactly,” Logan murmurs, his voice low yet unmistakably hard. “This is exactly what she would’ve wanted. And she doesn’t deserve it.”
TBC. . . And now is the time to bail if you don't want to see Lilly drug through the mud. I do love that character, though, so who knows? Maybe there's redemption down he line.
Last edited by Catalyst on Wed Jan 25, 2006 9:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Knowing that it's coming doesn't keep it from happening...
Always Red in the Rearview
Come to my author chat Sunday (3/10) at 10 PM EST!
Always Red in the Rearview
Come to my author chat Sunday (3/10) at 10 PM EST!
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Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
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- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
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Chapter Three
Chapter Three
“Logan, what are you talking about? You did this to spite Lilly?” Veronica props her elbows on her knees, breathing into her palms. “How can you even say that?”
“Wake up Veronica!” Logan’s voice is harsh and angry, and when Veronica looks up, he’s perched on the coffee table, inches from her face. “Lilly wasn’t the princess that you seem to think she was. She was awful to all of us. She was horrible to everyone who loved her – you, me, Duncan. We were just toys for her. Little playthings for her amusement.”
“That’s not true.”
“She knew everything, Veronica. Everything.” Logan calms himself, shifting his weight back against the table and away from Veronica. “She knew about Duncan. She knew about your mother.” He pauses, and his voice is soft and restrained when he continues. “She knew about my father.”
Veronica doesn’t gasp. Honestly, she’s not sure why she’s surprised. Logan and Lilly weren’t secretive about their relationship, and, from what Veronica had been told, it would’ve been almost impossible for Lilly to miss the signs. She had to have known that something was going on.
Veronica had just hoped that –
No, Lilly wouldn’t have done that. Not just because of one stupid kiss. She was vengeful, but she wasn’t heartless.
Logan must’ve done – Veronica cuts off her own thought, quickly killing the urge to voice her opinion. Logan was right. He is her scapegoat.
“Lilly… she loved you, Logan,” Veronica reasons. “Why would she do that? There’s got to be –”
“There isn’t, Veronica. Why is it so hard for you to believe? She was horrible to you, and you just refuse to see that.” He shakes his head, his wry smile mocking her. “For someone who claims to want answers so badly, you’re pretty willing to ignore the obvious.”
Veronica’s eyes dart away, and she hates him for the truth in his allegations. She needs to believe that Lilly was ultimately good, that Lilly was everything she remembers. Otherwise, the last year and all of the awful, horrible things she had learned about everyone and everything she thought she loved – it was all for nothing. For a spoiled heiress who wanted nothing more than to shock and be amused.
Veronica didn’t think she could handle that.
“Do you know how long she knew about your mother and her father?” Logan questions softly as her silence wears on. “About your paternity?”
“Duncan told her after he broke up with me,” Veronica says, her voice hard with false conviction. “He must have.”
“Yeah, he told her after he found out.” Logan pauses. “But Lilly already knew about it by then. Her mother told her just before you joined pep squad. Months before you started dating Duncan. Celeste didn’t want you around and when she saw how Duncan acted around you, she told Lilly to quit bringing you to the house. When Lilly refused, her mother told her everything, hoping that Lilly at least cared enough about you and Duncan to stop things. Lilly didn’t. She wanted her toys to play.” Logan pauses, another confession hot on his tongue, but before he can speak Veronica is running from the room. For one cold-blooded moment, Logan thinks he might’ve pushed her too far, forced too much on her. Then he hears the bathroom door slam against the wall, followed by the muted sounds of Veronica retching. He shakes his head, hating himself for doing this to her. She doesn’t deserve this.
None of them deserve this.
She gasps when she feels his hands lift the hair from her damp neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant to…” His voice drifts away. He regrets too much to voice it all. She knows what he’s sorry for. She knows what he’s done.
Veronica Mars knows everything.
“Logan, what are you talking about? You did this to spite Lilly?” Veronica props her elbows on her knees, breathing into her palms. “How can you even say that?”
“Wake up Veronica!” Logan’s voice is harsh and angry, and when Veronica looks up, he’s perched on the coffee table, inches from her face. “Lilly wasn’t the princess that you seem to think she was. She was awful to all of us. She was horrible to everyone who loved her – you, me, Duncan. We were just toys for her. Little playthings for her amusement.”
“That’s not true.”
“She knew everything, Veronica. Everything.” Logan calms himself, shifting his weight back against the table and away from Veronica. “She knew about Duncan. She knew about your mother.” He pauses, and his voice is soft and restrained when he continues. “She knew about my father.”
Veronica doesn’t gasp. Honestly, she’s not sure why she’s surprised. Logan and Lilly weren’t secretive about their relationship, and, from what Veronica had been told, it would’ve been almost impossible for Lilly to miss the signs. She had to have known that something was going on.
Veronica had just hoped that –
No, Lilly wouldn’t have done that. Not just because of one stupid kiss. She was vengeful, but she wasn’t heartless.
Logan must’ve done – Veronica cuts off her own thought, quickly killing the urge to voice her opinion. Logan was right. He is her scapegoat.
“Lilly… she loved you, Logan,” Veronica reasons. “Why would she do that? There’s got to be –”
“There isn’t, Veronica. Why is it so hard for you to believe? She was horrible to you, and you just refuse to see that.” He shakes his head, his wry smile mocking her. “For someone who claims to want answers so badly, you’re pretty willing to ignore the obvious.”
Veronica’s eyes dart away, and she hates him for the truth in his allegations. She needs to believe that Lilly was ultimately good, that Lilly was everything she remembers. Otherwise, the last year and all of the awful, horrible things she had learned about everyone and everything she thought she loved – it was all for nothing. For a spoiled heiress who wanted nothing more than to shock and be amused.
Veronica didn’t think she could handle that.
“Do you know how long she knew about your mother and her father?” Logan questions softly as her silence wears on. “About your paternity?”
“Duncan told her after he broke up with me,” Veronica says, her voice hard with false conviction. “He must have.”
“Yeah, he told her after he found out.” Logan pauses. “But Lilly already knew about it by then. Her mother told her just before you joined pep squad. Months before you started dating Duncan. Celeste didn’t want you around and when she saw how Duncan acted around you, she told Lilly to quit bringing you to the house. When Lilly refused, her mother told her everything, hoping that Lilly at least cared enough about you and Duncan to stop things. Lilly didn’t. She wanted her toys to play.” Logan pauses, another confession hot on his tongue, but before he can speak Veronica is running from the room. For one cold-blooded moment, Logan thinks he might’ve pushed her too far, forced too much on her. Then he hears the bathroom door slam against the wall, followed by the muted sounds of Veronica retching. He shakes his head, hating himself for doing this to her. She doesn’t deserve this.
None of them deserve this.
She gasps when she feels his hands lift the hair from her damp neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant to…” His voice drifts away. He regrets too much to voice it all. She knows what he’s sorry for. She knows what he’s done.
Veronica Mars knows everything.
Last edited by Catalyst on Wed Jan 25, 2006 9:00 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 31
- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
- Location: Two stars left of Jupiter
Chapter Four
AN: I still have no idea where this is going. But, for what it's worth, it's writing itself.
Chapter Four
Duncan comes home to find his girlfriend and his almost, used-to-be best friend asleep on the couch. Veronica’s laptop is open on her legs, the screen black from inactivity. Logan’s head rests on her shoulder, his body bent at an awkward angle – it’s obvious he fell asleep first – and a manila folder lies open on the couch beside him.
Obviously they’re working on his case. That doesn’t mean that Duncan likes walking in on them together. After all, weren’t they at each other’s throats when he left?
Which is exactly why he goes back to the entryway, taking care to slam the door and make as much noise on his way back to the living room. As expected, by the time he reenters, Veronica and Logan have split apart, veering towards opposite ends of the couch.
“Duncan,” Veronica says, her voice both surprised and groggy. “I thought you were supposed to be in Napa until Friday.”
He shrugs. “Guess I just missed you too much.” Duncan smiles, though it doesn’t quite fit, and presses a kiss to her temple. “What are you doing over here?”
“Just working the case,” Veronica comments offhandedly. Her movements are slightly awkward as she stands, discretely closing the screen of the laptop. “Listen, Duncan, I don’t know if you’ve heard yet. . .” Veronica pauses, and for the first time she realizes that she hasn’t thought about bus crashes or death or guilt since Logan’s newest (almost) idiot mission. She hasn’t thought of Meg or babies or almost-but-not-quite lies that linger.
“About Meg,” Duncan fills in, his voice somber. It’s only then that Veronica realizes that, once again, Logan has disappeared. Lucky. “Yeah, we got the call.”
“Duncan,” Veronica begins slowly, acutely aware of this unstable territory. “What’s going to happen to the baby?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Veronica opens her mouth, but Duncan interrupts. “Listen, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Then, with a gentle kiss, he disappears into his room.
“Trouble in paradise?” Logan quips when he reemerges from the kitchen and finds Veronica staring at Duncan’s closed door.
Veronica shakes her head and grabs for her laptop. “I’ve got to get home, Logan.” She takes the folder and stuffs it into his bag. “We’ll work on this more tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure,” Logan mumbles, but she doesn’t hear him. She’s already gone.
. . .
Duncan isn’t in school the next day. Veronica finds a message on her voicemail after first period.
Sorry, Veronica. Had to deal with the lawyers. Let’s have dinner tomorrow.
He doesn’t say goodbye, and his phone snaps closed so abruptly, she can hear it in the end of his message.
When she calls him back, his phone rings endlessly, but he doesn’t pick up. When Duncan is with the lawyers, his phone is off.
He’s avoiding her.
She’s angry and irritated when she leaves her message, three calls later.
Busy tomorrow with someone who answers their phone. See you when I see you.
She thinks of Meg and the baby and everything that must be on his mind and she’s more irritated, more angry, but most of all, a lot more guilty.
She watches Wallace from across the quad, laughing and smiling, and she wonders how she didn’t notice sooner. He’s happy there, away from her and the drama and chaos that comes from knowing her.
Two years ago, he would’ve hated her.
A year ago, she doesn’t know what she would’ve done without him.
She’s beginning to realize that she’s never known anything about real friendship.
Lilly used her; Lilly betrayed her.
She used Mac; she betrayed Meg.
She used Wallace; she was never there for Wallace.
Wallace was always there for her.
Has she ever really been someone’s friend? Veronica wonders if she even knows how.
. . .
Logan is already in the bathroom when she gets there, minutes after the bell rings and looking more tattered than usual.
“Do you know where Duncan is?” she asks him without preamble. “Really?”
Four months ago, he would’ve taunted her with those seven words, with the sick-sad truth of her relationship. But today... well, even Logan has a limit, and he doesn’t hate her enough anymore to want to see her cry. “He said something about the lawyers,” Logan tells her. “But...”
“What?” she urges, too quickly. She’s desperate, and he doesn’t want to think about why that makes him feel like he’s just taken a blow to the stomach.
“He was on the phone with his parents last night. He’s louder than he realizes sometimes.”
“What did he say?”
“They were just talking about the baby.” She doesn’t think he sees her flinch, but she’s wrong. “His parents have three P.I.s watching Meg’s parents. With what Duncan knows about her sister, they’re hoping they can overpower his epilepsy with her parent’s abuse. Not to mention the Kane fortune. It’s not like Duncan would be raising that kid anyway.”
Veronica doesn’t realize that she’s swaying until Logan’s hand is on her elbow. “Are you okay?” He helps her to the counter, lingering close as she pulls herself onto it, before he rifles through his pockets. “What have you eaten today?”
She shakes her head. “Now you sound like my father.”
His eyes darken momentarily, and, when the look passes, Veronica wonders if she imagined it.
He hands her a package of a Skittles, half empty, rolled closed. “I don’t feel like driving you to the hospital because you passed out and hit your head on the trash can. And you don’t want me to leave you passed out on the bathroom floor.”
She smiles at him, but it’s weak and lopsided. “You’re not that much of a bitch, Logan.”
“Exactly, Veronica,” he tells her. “I’m not your bitch. I’d be gone before you hit the ground.” She puts a few Skittles in her mouth and shakes her head softly. “Look, you’re lips aren’t purple anymore.”
“Don’t stare at my lips, Logan.” In her head, the comment is light and sarcastic, but it falls flat and awkward from her tongue.
He tries for a smile but it doesn’t quite reach. With stumbling motions, he realizes that his hands are on her knees, and quickly steps back, ignoring the lingering déjà-vu from their first kiss.
The moment passes, though it feels like it takes hours.
“Do you think you can stand up again?” he asks her, his eyes on the tiles so he can pretend that he doesn’t still feel her bare skin beneath his palms.
“I think I’ve got it.” She pulls herself down, then looks around the room as if there might be more to see. “Let’s get out of here,” she tells him.
“Why, Veronica, how very delinquent of you!” he quips. “I didn’t know you still had it in you.”
“I left my laptop at home,” she tells him, as if that’s reason enough. “And I just... don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Welcome to every day in anyone else's reality.” But when she moves for the door, he’s following her.
When they pass the attendance office, Veronica catches a glimpse of Duncan at the sign in board. She turns away before he catches her eye but doesn’t stop moving.
When Duncan gets out of the office, he sees Veronica climbing into the passenger side of Logan’s Xterra.
And when her eyes fall on him, he’d swear he saw her smile.
TBC. . .
Chapter Four
Duncan comes home to find his girlfriend and his almost, used-to-be best friend asleep on the couch. Veronica’s laptop is open on her legs, the screen black from inactivity. Logan’s head rests on her shoulder, his body bent at an awkward angle – it’s obvious he fell asleep first – and a manila folder lies open on the couch beside him.
Obviously they’re working on his case. That doesn’t mean that Duncan likes walking in on them together. After all, weren’t they at each other’s throats when he left?
Which is exactly why he goes back to the entryway, taking care to slam the door and make as much noise on his way back to the living room. As expected, by the time he reenters, Veronica and Logan have split apart, veering towards opposite ends of the couch.
“Duncan,” Veronica says, her voice both surprised and groggy. “I thought you were supposed to be in Napa until Friday.”
He shrugs. “Guess I just missed you too much.” Duncan smiles, though it doesn’t quite fit, and presses a kiss to her temple. “What are you doing over here?”
“Just working the case,” Veronica comments offhandedly. Her movements are slightly awkward as she stands, discretely closing the screen of the laptop. “Listen, Duncan, I don’t know if you’ve heard yet. . .” Veronica pauses, and for the first time she realizes that she hasn’t thought about bus crashes or death or guilt since Logan’s newest (almost) idiot mission. She hasn’t thought of Meg or babies or almost-but-not-quite lies that linger.
“About Meg,” Duncan fills in, his voice somber. It’s only then that Veronica realizes that, once again, Logan has disappeared. Lucky. “Yeah, we got the call.”
“Duncan,” Veronica begins slowly, acutely aware of this unstable territory. “What’s going to happen to the baby?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Veronica opens her mouth, but Duncan interrupts. “Listen, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Then, with a gentle kiss, he disappears into his room.
“Trouble in paradise?” Logan quips when he reemerges from the kitchen and finds Veronica staring at Duncan’s closed door.
Veronica shakes her head and grabs for her laptop. “I’ve got to get home, Logan.” She takes the folder and stuffs it into his bag. “We’ll work on this more tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure,” Logan mumbles, but she doesn’t hear him. She’s already gone.
. . .
Duncan isn’t in school the next day. Veronica finds a message on her voicemail after first period.
Sorry, Veronica. Had to deal with the lawyers. Let’s have dinner tomorrow.
He doesn’t say goodbye, and his phone snaps closed so abruptly, she can hear it in the end of his message.
When she calls him back, his phone rings endlessly, but he doesn’t pick up. When Duncan is with the lawyers, his phone is off.
He’s avoiding her.
She’s angry and irritated when she leaves her message, three calls later.
Busy tomorrow with someone who answers their phone. See you when I see you.
She thinks of Meg and the baby and everything that must be on his mind and she’s more irritated, more angry, but most of all, a lot more guilty.
She watches Wallace from across the quad, laughing and smiling, and she wonders how she didn’t notice sooner. He’s happy there, away from her and the drama and chaos that comes from knowing her.
Two years ago, he would’ve hated her.
A year ago, she doesn’t know what she would’ve done without him.
She’s beginning to realize that she’s never known anything about real friendship.
Lilly used her; Lilly betrayed her.
She used Mac; she betrayed Meg.
She used Wallace; she was never there for Wallace.
Wallace was always there for her.
Has she ever really been someone’s friend? Veronica wonders if she even knows how.
. . .
Logan is already in the bathroom when she gets there, minutes after the bell rings and looking more tattered than usual.
“Do you know where Duncan is?” she asks him without preamble. “Really?”
Four months ago, he would’ve taunted her with those seven words, with the sick-sad truth of her relationship. But today... well, even Logan has a limit, and he doesn’t hate her enough anymore to want to see her cry. “He said something about the lawyers,” Logan tells her. “But...”
“What?” she urges, too quickly. She’s desperate, and he doesn’t want to think about why that makes him feel like he’s just taken a blow to the stomach.
“He was on the phone with his parents last night. He’s louder than he realizes sometimes.”
“What did he say?”
“They were just talking about the baby.” She doesn’t think he sees her flinch, but she’s wrong. “His parents have three P.I.s watching Meg’s parents. With what Duncan knows about her sister, they’re hoping they can overpower his epilepsy with her parent’s abuse. Not to mention the Kane fortune. It’s not like Duncan would be raising that kid anyway.”
Veronica doesn’t realize that she’s swaying until Logan’s hand is on her elbow. “Are you okay?” He helps her to the counter, lingering close as she pulls herself onto it, before he rifles through his pockets. “What have you eaten today?”
She shakes her head. “Now you sound like my father.”
His eyes darken momentarily, and, when the look passes, Veronica wonders if she imagined it.
He hands her a package of a Skittles, half empty, rolled closed. “I don’t feel like driving you to the hospital because you passed out and hit your head on the trash can. And you don’t want me to leave you passed out on the bathroom floor.”
She smiles at him, but it’s weak and lopsided. “You’re not that much of a bitch, Logan.”
“Exactly, Veronica,” he tells her. “I’m not your bitch. I’d be gone before you hit the ground.” She puts a few Skittles in her mouth and shakes her head softly. “Look, you’re lips aren’t purple anymore.”
“Don’t stare at my lips, Logan.” In her head, the comment is light and sarcastic, but it falls flat and awkward from her tongue.
He tries for a smile but it doesn’t quite reach. With stumbling motions, he realizes that his hands are on her knees, and quickly steps back, ignoring the lingering déjà-vu from their first kiss.
The moment passes, though it feels like it takes hours.
“Do you think you can stand up again?” he asks her, his eyes on the tiles so he can pretend that he doesn’t still feel her bare skin beneath his palms.
“I think I’ve got it.” She pulls herself down, then looks around the room as if there might be more to see. “Let’s get out of here,” she tells him.
“Why, Veronica, how very delinquent of you!” he quips. “I didn’t know you still had it in you.”
“I left my laptop at home,” she tells him, as if that’s reason enough. “And I just... don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Welcome to every day in anyone else's reality.” But when she moves for the door, he’s following her.
When they pass the attendance office, Veronica catches a glimpse of Duncan at the sign in board. She turns away before he catches her eye but doesn’t stop moving.
When Duncan gets out of the office, he sees Veronica climbing into the passenger side of Logan’s Xterra.
And when her eyes fall on him, he’d swear he saw her smile.
TBC. . .
-
Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 31
- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
- Location: Two stars left of Jupiter
Chapter Five
Chapter Five
“You could’ve stayed,” Logan tells her when the silence in the car becomes overbearing. “Obviously you want to talk with Duncan.”
“Well, obviously Duncan doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Since when does what other people want have any effect on you?”
Despite herself, Veronica feels a smile pulling at her lips. “What are you implying, Logan?”
“That you’re stubborn, hard-headed, opinionated, out-spoken, and any other polite words for annoying that you can think of.” Mid-rant, he pulls up outside of Veronica’s apartment and throws the car in park.
Later, Veronica wouldn’t know how, exactly, she got from here to sitting in Logan’s lap, her lips, her body pressed against him, but she has a feeling she’d made the first move. And then his hands are on her arms, and she isn’t sure if he is holding her back or pulling her closer. No matter what his arms are doing, though, his mouth is fully involved and committed to keeping her close.
And then Veronica pulls away, and she’s flushed pink and her lips are swollen, and she can’t decide if Logan looks confused or pissed.
Probably a bit of both.
He shakes his head, almost as if he can clear her away with the simple gesture, but she’s still on his lap when his eyes refocus, and Veronica’s pretty sure that’s not helping anything.
Then again, he’s not yelling, so maybe it’s working perfectly.
“What...” He blinks, and Veronica isn’t sure she’s ever seen Logan Echolls speechless before. “...was that?”
She shrugs, and then he’s realizing that he’s still got one hand part-way up her shirt, and the other brushing against her breast. The moment that follows is awkward and clumsy as Veronica pulls herself back to the passenger seat while Logan tries to pretend that he doesn’t still feel her... everywhere.
“I’m just going to get the laptop,” she tells him, and then he’s alone in the car, eyes trained on her as she slips through the community gates and disappears from view.
And honestly... he’s still not sure whether he’s going to scream at her or maul her when she comes back. But neither seems quite appropriate when she steps back through the chipping white gates, her hands bloody, her face pale, and, yes, Logan’s pretty sure she’s crying.
He’s out of his seat faster than he thinks he ever has been, and then he’s holding her shoulders and she’s crying, sobbing, and he can’t make out a word of the gibberish.
“Veronica?” The blood is scaring him. She’s not bleeding. Where did the blood come from? “Veronica, whose blood is this?”
He thinks they must be quite a sight, smeared in blood, pale and pink and disheveled. Even in this neighborhood.
”Veronica, we have to get out of the street.” Without thinking, he starts to pull her back towards the apartment, but, if possible, she sobs harder, pulling away from him so violently that she collapses to the sidewalk.
He’s on his knees in an instant, unnoticing and uncaring of how this must look to her neighbors. “Veronica, please tell me what happened.”
“Logan, get me out of here.”
And it’s the best idea he’s heard all day.
. . .
She’s in the shower almost as soon as Logan gets the door open, and then he only hears her muted tears occasionally over the sound of the water.
He tries to forget that she’s in his shower, just one flimsy lock away, by reminding himself that she’s covered in blood, that she’s crying, and that, most likely, the sheriff is on his way right now.
And Logan has a feeling that he might want some sort of explanation for the scene at Veronica’s apartment.
Yeah, well, join the club.
No one knows what goes on in Veronica’s head. Least of all Logan.
So when she comes out of the bathroom in a pair of his sweats and an old tee shirt, Logan tries to see the tear tracks on her face instead of the steam that’s still rising from her skin. He tries to see the gentle quiver in all of her movements and not the flush of pink that the hot water branded her with.
And when she curls up beside him on the suddenly much-too-small couch... well, then he’s just trying to pretend that he’s not a seventeen-year-old boy, and that she’s not radiating enough heat to make him think she could brand him.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She sniffles, and he wonders if she’s ever really broken down like this in front of him. He’s not sure that she’s ever come crying to him. Usually, she’s positive that he’s the reason she’s crying.
“The house was... ransacked when I got there.” She closes her eyes, and he wishes she wouldn’t. He knows that she’s seeing it all again, and he thinks that she can be a big sucker for punishment.
After all, she dated him, didn’t she?
“Veronica, whose blood was on you?” His voice is quiet, but he has to know. He needs at least one answer for Sheriff Lamb when he shows up with those handcuffs he’s so fond of shackling Logan with.
“They killed Backup.” And he’s relieved that it wasn’t her father or Wallace or whoever else could’ve been in that apartment, but now she’s got her head buried in her hands, and the relief is short lived.
“Thos bastards killed my dog, Logan.” She takes a deep breath, and he sees Veronica again, strong and determined and everything that she’s always been but has only shown for the last year. “And now they’re going to fry.”
And Logan’s not sure whether to be relieved or terrified.
TBC. . .
And, a quick AN because it made me so sad to kill Backup. But I just couldn't find any way to rationalize the mob breaking in and destroying her house and then leaving her dog who obviously would have attacked them when they entered.
So, yeah. I just wanted to say that it does have purpose. I'm not just a sick person.
Really.
“You could’ve stayed,” Logan tells her when the silence in the car becomes overbearing. “Obviously you want to talk with Duncan.”
“Well, obviously Duncan doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Since when does what other people want have any effect on you?”
Despite herself, Veronica feels a smile pulling at her lips. “What are you implying, Logan?”
“That you’re stubborn, hard-headed, opinionated, out-spoken, and any other polite words for annoying that you can think of.” Mid-rant, he pulls up outside of Veronica’s apartment and throws the car in park.
Later, Veronica wouldn’t know how, exactly, she got from here to sitting in Logan’s lap, her lips, her body pressed against him, but she has a feeling she’d made the first move. And then his hands are on her arms, and she isn’t sure if he is holding her back or pulling her closer. No matter what his arms are doing, though, his mouth is fully involved and committed to keeping her close.
And then Veronica pulls away, and she’s flushed pink and her lips are swollen, and she can’t decide if Logan looks confused or pissed.
Probably a bit of both.
He shakes his head, almost as if he can clear her away with the simple gesture, but she’s still on his lap when his eyes refocus, and Veronica’s pretty sure that’s not helping anything.
Then again, he’s not yelling, so maybe it’s working perfectly.
“What...” He blinks, and Veronica isn’t sure she’s ever seen Logan Echolls speechless before. “...was that?”
She shrugs, and then he’s realizing that he’s still got one hand part-way up her shirt, and the other brushing against her breast. The moment that follows is awkward and clumsy as Veronica pulls herself back to the passenger seat while Logan tries to pretend that he doesn’t still feel her... everywhere.
“I’m just going to get the laptop,” she tells him, and then he’s alone in the car, eyes trained on her as she slips through the community gates and disappears from view.
And honestly... he’s still not sure whether he’s going to scream at her or maul her when she comes back. But neither seems quite appropriate when she steps back through the chipping white gates, her hands bloody, her face pale, and, yes, Logan’s pretty sure she’s crying.
He’s out of his seat faster than he thinks he ever has been, and then he’s holding her shoulders and she’s crying, sobbing, and he can’t make out a word of the gibberish.
“Veronica?” The blood is scaring him. She’s not bleeding. Where did the blood come from? “Veronica, whose blood is this?”
He thinks they must be quite a sight, smeared in blood, pale and pink and disheveled. Even in this neighborhood.
”Veronica, we have to get out of the street.” Without thinking, he starts to pull her back towards the apartment, but, if possible, she sobs harder, pulling away from him so violently that she collapses to the sidewalk.
He’s on his knees in an instant, unnoticing and uncaring of how this must look to her neighbors. “Veronica, please tell me what happened.”
“Logan, get me out of here.”
And it’s the best idea he’s heard all day.
. . .
She’s in the shower almost as soon as Logan gets the door open, and then he only hears her muted tears occasionally over the sound of the water.
He tries to forget that she’s in his shower, just one flimsy lock away, by reminding himself that she’s covered in blood, that she’s crying, and that, most likely, the sheriff is on his way right now.
And Logan has a feeling that he might want some sort of explanation for the scene at Veronica’s apartment.
Yeah, well, join the club.
No one knows what goes on in Veronica’s head. Least of all Logan.
So when she comes out of the bathroom in a pair of his sweats and an old tee shirt, Logan tries to see the tear tracks on her face instead of the steam that’s still rising from her skin. He tries to see the gentle quiver in all of her movements and not the flush of pink that the hot water branded her with.
And when she curls up beside him on the suddenly much-too-small couch... well, then he’s just trying to pretend that he’s not a seventeen-year-old boy, and that she’s not radiating enough heat to make him think she could brand him.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She sniffles, and he wonders if she’s ever really broken down like this in front of him. He’s not sure that she’s ever come crying to him. Usually, she’s positive that he’s the reason she’s crying.
“The house was... ransacked when I got there.” She closes her eyes, and he wishes she wouldn’t. He knows that she’s seeing it all again, and he thinks that she can be a big sucker for punishment.
After all, she dated him, didn’t she?
“Veronica, whose blood was on you?” His voice is quiet, but he has to know. He needs at least one answer for Sheriff Lamb when he shows up with those handcuffs he’s so fond of shackling Logan with.
“They killed Backup.” And he’s relieved that it wasn’t her father or Wallace or whoever else could’ve been in that apartment, but now she’s got her head buried in her hands, and the relief is short lived.
“Thos bastards killed my dog, Logan.” She takes a deep breath, and he sees Veronica again, strong and determined and everything that she’s always been but has only shown for the last year. “And now they’re going to fry.”
And Logan’s not sure whether to be relieved or terrified.
TBC. . .
And, a quick AN because it made me so sad to kill Backup. But I just couldn't find any way to rationalize the mob breaking in and destroying her house and then leaving her dog who obviously would have attacked them when they entered.
So, yeah. I just wanted to say that it does have purpose. I'm not just a sick person.
Really.
-
Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 31
- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
- Location: Two stars left of Jupiter
Chapter Six
AN: A bit late, but these new classes are kicking my ass. Sorry.
Chapter Six
Duncan doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he opens the door of his suite, but the stark cold silence that greets him doesn’t fit. The room catches him off-guard – the rumpled couch cushions, covered by a wrinkled comforter, the half-filled (water, not vodka) cups that linger in the kitchen, the towel peeking from behind the not-quite-closed bathroom door. Duncan’s life doesn’t have disorder anymore. It’s been years since anyone’s been able to clutter the Kane lifestyle; no one but Lilly could destroy a room fast enough to keep two maids scrambling.
Duncan had been living a life with no memory, no traces of the past lingering in rumpled sheets or used silverware. The abrupt reminder is like a slap to the face.
His hand his fumbling for the phone when his eye catches something in the bathroom. A flicker of red. The tiniest trace of a memory his mind had never committed to.
The phone falls, forgotten, from his fingers as he presses into the bathroom, eyes determined not to blink.
He doesn’t hallucinate. Not anymore.
The blood on the wall is thin, streaked down the wall by a shallow trickle of water. Duncan can see a handprint, vaguely, fingertips leeching through the palm, bleeding to the drain.
Logan’s hands aren’t that small.
Duncan doesn’t remember what it felt like to hold Lilly in his arms, cold and lifeless. Doesn’t remember the feel of her blood staining his skin, his cheek, his lips. Doesn’t remember feeling of warm water and almost cool skin beneath his fingers as he must’ve begged her to wake up. To not be dead.
But he remembers every step between the shower and the phone. And he remembers the pressure against his fingers as he dialed 911.
...
“Have you been home yet?” Veronica only calls her father when she sure she can speak without hiccupping. She doesn’t look at Logan. She’s not ready for pity or sarcasm or whatever else he might have cooked up for her.
First she’s in his lap, then she’s crying on his shoulder. All that’s left is a drunken confession of love and the subsequent vomiting, and Veronica’s pretty sure she’ll have covered all of the major arenas of embarrassment.
“No, I got out early today.” Pause. “Well, I’m sure they know now.” Veronica’s tone is clipped, and she gives him only a moment to chastise her. “Dad, that’s really the least of our worries right now. You might want to call Lamb. Tell him that someone broke into our apartment.” She pauses again, though Logan sees that, this time, it’s only because she’s trying to swallow her words.
Unfortunately, even if she could, it wouldn’t really change the truth in them. “And they murdered our dog.”
She doesn’t speak for a long time, and Logan doesn’t hear the muffled returns of her father’s voice either. They pass the school’s parking lot, and Veronica turns her eyes away. At least the office isn’t far now.
“No, don’t call me back. I’ll be there in five minutes.” She hangs up. “He had another call,” she explains, though Logan never asks.
The silence is tense as the blocks pass, but Logan knows he needs to say something before they get to her father. Where Logan wouldn’t be surprised if he was met by a warm pistol.
“You need to drop my case, Veronica.” His voice is quiet, and he’s not used to this kind of feeling.
After all, hadn’t he told her to pretend that this had happened just weeks ago when she wasn’t paying enough attention to him.
God job, Logan, he berates himself. Way to use those moments of clairvoyance.
“Not a chance in hell,” she answers, her anger and stubbornness hiding the tremor that’s lingered in her voice all day.
“This has gone too far; you’re not going to get yourself killed over me.”
“I know what I’m doing, Logan.” She flashes her eyes toward him. “But thanks for caring.” Her voice is dry and stale.
“Damn it, Veronica, this is ridiculous.” He pulls up in front of her father’s building, but neither of them moves for the door.
Instead, Veronica leans across his seat, her hand dropping to his ankle. “No, this is ridiculous.” She taps the monitor. “You don’t deserve this, Logan.”
“So you find one of them,” he continues, pretending not to notice how she’s leaning over him. “Say you actually get him put away. You find a way to stick the murder to him. What about the twenty brothers and seventy-five cousins left in that fucked up family? You’re not doing this for me, Veronica. You’re fired.”
“I wasn’t aware I was being paid.”
“Neither was I,” he tells her. “But I’m still firing you. I’ll take it to court. Plead self-defense. I’ve still got lawyers, and no one seems to be contesting the fact that they all beat the crap out of me up there.”
“There wasn’t a witness the first time,” Veronica tells him. She’s back in her seat now, her voice quieter, more subdued. “There wasn’t a wealthy, educated doctor saying that he saw you put that knife in Felix.”
Logan sighs, and he knows she’s right. But so is he, and he won’t let her destroy herself for him.
“Stop going after the Fitzpatricks,” he tells her. “Stop trying to find the murderer.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he continues. “If this is really about helping me, Veronica, all you have to do is find the real witness. Just make this guy go away.”
...
Veronica isn’t sure how long it takes for her and Logan to drag themselves into her father’s office, but she thinks that days must’ve passed to account for the look on his face. He’s pale and shaky, verging on crying or vomiting, and when he nearly crashes into her in the hallway, he crushes her to him in a hug that leaves her winded.
He’d known that Lamb was wrong; after all, he’d just spoken to Veronica, but part of him – the crazy conspiracy theorist part that made him such a good detective – couldn’t be positive until he saw her.
He didn’t ever want to learn how to handle the words we have reason to believe someone has... inured your daughter.
Keith doesn’t notice Logan until Veronica is pulling away from him, concern written on her face. “Do you want to tell me why Duncan would think that you were dead?” His eyes flicker to Logan just as Veronica’s do. “Or why he would think that Logan had hurt you?” The look that Keith shoots to Logan while Veronica isn’t looking almost has the boy backing towards the door.
“God,” she murmurs, her voice almost lost in her throat. “He did what?”
“There must’ve been blood in the suite,” Logan fills in, almost stepping towards Veronica. One glance at Keith tells him that it might not be the best idea. “He saw us leaving together; he knew you were with me.”
Veronica shakes her head, and Keith finally notices the abnormity in her outfit. The sweatpants she’s wearing barely hang on her hips, and, though he can tell she’s folded them many times, they still hang below her feet. The shirt is equally awkward, falling too far past her waist and hanging too loosely from her shoulders.
He’d been trying to convince her to dress like this for years. Somehow he wasn’t as thrilled as he always thought he’d be.
“Veronica, how long has it been since you went to the house?” Veronica’s eyes flicker to his for a moment, skirting away before he gets a close look at her.
“We just went to the hotel so that I could shower, Dad,” she tells him, still looking away. “There was just... so much blood.” And then Keith knows that she’s not lying. She’s just trying not to cry.
When Logan’s hand brushes against her elbow, she leans toward him without thinking, and Keith’s eyes narrow.
But before he can voice his disapproval, Logan cuts him off, quiet and almost mournful.
“They’ll be here soon... won’t they?” His eyes glance toward his ankle, toward the gentle pressure that suddenly feels like a ten-pound brick. “Lamb will come looking for me.”
Keith takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he used to know this boy. That he wasn’t always like this.
Sometimes Logan makes it easy to forget all of the things that make him act the way he does.
“Come inside,” he finally answers. “We wouldn’t want Veronica to miss a chance to mess with Lamb.”
TBC...
Chapter Six
Duncan doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he opens the door of his suite, but the stark cold silence that greets him doesn’t fit. The room catches him off-guard – the rumpled couch cushions, covered by a wrinkled comforter, the half-filled (water, not vodka) cups that linger in the kitchen, the towel peeking from behind the not-quite-closed bathroom door. Duncan’s life doesn’t have disorder anymore. It’s been years since anyone’s been able to clutter the Kane lifestyle; no one but Lilly could destroy a room fast enough to keep two maids scrambling.
Duncan had been living a life with no memory, no traces of the past lingering in rumpled sheets or used silverware. The abrupt reminder is like a slap to the face.
His hand his fumbling for the phone when his eye catches something in the bathroom. A flicker of red. The tiniest trace of a memory his mind had never committed to.
The phone falls, forgotten, from his fingers as he presses into the bathroom, eyes determined not to blink.
He doesn’t hallucinate. Not anymore.
The blood on the wall is thin, streaked down the wall by a shallow trickle of water. Duncan can see a handprint, vaguely, fingertips leeching through the palm, bleeding to the drain.
Logan’s hands aren’t that small.
Duncan doesn’t remember what it felt like to hold Lilly in his arms, cold and lifeless. Doesn’t remember the feel of her blood staining his skin, his cheek, his lips. Doesn’t remember feeling of warm water and almost cool skin beneath his fingers as he must’ve begged her to wake up. To not be dead.
But he remembers every step between the shower and the phone. And he remembers the pressure against his fingers as he dialed 911.
...
“Have you been home yet?” Veronica only calls her father when she sure she can speak without hiccupping. She doesn’t look at Logan. She’s not ready for pity or sarcasm or whatever else he might have cooked up for her.
First she’s in his lap, then she’s crying on his shoulder. All that’s left is a drunken confession of love and the subsequent vomiting, and Veronica’s pretty sure she’ll have covered all of the major arenas of embarrassment.
“No, I got out early today.” Pause. “Well, I’m sure they know now.” Veronica’s tone is clipped, and she gives him only a moment to chastise her. “Dad, that’s really the least of our worries right now. You might want to call Lamb. Tell him that someone broke into our apartment.” She pauses again, though Logan sees that, this time, it’s only because she’s trying to swallow her words.
Unfortunately, even if she could, it wouldn’t really change the truth in them. “And they murdered our dog.”
She doesn’t speak for a long time, and Logan doesn’t hear the muffled returns of her father’s voice either. They pass the school’s parking lot, and Veronica turns her eyes away. At least the office isn’t far now.
“No, don’t call me back. I’ll be there in five minutes.” She hangs up. “He had another call,” she explains, though Logan never asks.
The silence is tense as the blocks pass, but Logan knows he needs to say something before they get to her father. Where Logan wouldn’t be surprised if he was met by a warm pistol.
“You need to drop my case, Veronica.” His voice is quiet, and he’s not used to this kind of feeling.
After all, hadn’t he told her to pretend that this had happened just weeks ago when she wasn’t paying enough attention to him.
God job, Logan, he berates himself. Way to use those moments of clairvoyance.
“Not a chance in hell,” she answers, her anger and stubbornness hiding the tremor that’s lingered in her voice all day.
“This has gone too far; you’re not going to get yourself killed over me.”
“I know what I’m doing, Logan.” She flashes her eyes toward him. “But thanks for caring.” Her voice is dry and stale.
“Damn it, Veronica, this is ridiculous.” He pulls up in front of her father’s building, but neither of them moves for the door.
Instead, Veronica leans across his seat, her hand dropping to his ankle. “No, this is ridiculous.” She taps the monitor. “You don’t deserve this, Logan.”
“So you find one of them,” he continues, pretending not to notice how she’s leaning over him. “Say you actually get him put away. You find a way to stick the murder to him. What about the twenty brothers and seventy-five cousins left in that fucked up family? You’re not doing this for me, Veronica. You’re fired.”
“I wasn’t aware I was being paid.”
“Neither was I,” he tells her. “But I’m still firing you. I’ll take it to court. Plead self-defense. I’ve still got lawyers, and no one seems to be contesting the fact that they all beat the crap out of me up there.”
“There wasn’t a witness the first time,” Veronica tells him. She’s back in her seat now, her voice quieter, more subdued. “There wasn’t a wealthy, educated doctor saying that he saw you put that knife in Felix.”
Logan sighs, and he knows she’s right. But so is he, and he won’t let her destroy herself for him.
“Stop going after the Fitzpatricks,” he tells her. “Stop trying to find the murderer.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he continues. “If this is really about helping me, Veronica, all you have to do is find the real witness. Just make this guy go away.”
...
Veronica isn’t sure how long it takes for her and Logan to drag themselves into her father’s office, but she thinks that days must’ve passed to account for the look on his face. He’s pale and shaky, verging on crying or vomiting, and when he nearly crashes into her in the hallway, he crushes her to him in a hug that leaves her winded.
He’d known that Lamb was wrong; after all, he’d just spoken to Veronica, but part of him – the crazy conspiracy theorist part that made him such a good detective – couldn’t be positive until he saw her.
He didn’t ever want to learn how to handle the words we have reason to believe someone has... inured your daughter.
Keith doesn’t notice Logan until Veronica is pulling away from him, concern written on her face. “Do you want to tell me why Duncan would think that you were dead?” His eyes flicker to Logan just as Veronica’s do. “Or why he would think that Logan had hurt you?” The look that Keith shoots to Logan while Veronica isn’t looking almost has the boy backing towards the door.
“God,” she murmurs, her voice almost lost in her throat. “He did what?”
“There must’ve been blood in the suite,” Logan fills in, almost stepping towards Veronica. One glance at Keith tells him that it might not be the best idea. “He saw us leaving together; he knew you were with me.”
Veronica shakes her head, and Keith finally notices the abnormity in her outfit. The sweatpants she’s wearing barely hang on her hips, and, though he can tell she’s folded them many times, they still hang below her feet. The shirt is equally awkward, falling too far past her waist and hanging too loosely from her shoulders.
He’d been trying to convince her to dress like this for years. Somehow he wasn’t as thrilled as he always thought he’d be.
“Veronica, how long has it been since you went to the house?” Veronica’s eyes flicker to his for a moment, skirting away before he gets a close look at her.
“We just went to the hotel so that I could shower, Dad,” she tells him, still looking away. “There was just... so much blood.” And then Keith knows that she’s not lying. She’s just trying not to cry.
When Logan’s hand brushes against her elbow, she leans toward him without thinking, and Keith’s eyes narrow.
But before he can voice his disapproval, Logan cuts him off, quiet and almost mournful.
“They’ll be here soon... won’t they?” His eyes glance toward his ankle, toward the gentle pressure that suddenly feels like a ten-pound brick. “Lamb will come looking for me.”
Keith takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he used to know this boy. That he wasn’t always like this.
Sometimes Logan makes it easy to forget all of the things that make him act the way he does.
“Come inside,” he finally answers. “We wouldn’t want Veronica to miss a chance to mess with Lamb.”
TBC...
Knowing that it's coming doesn't keep it from happening...
Always Red in the Rearview
Come to my author chat Sunday (3/10) at 10 PM EST!
Always Red in the Rearview
Come to my author chat Sunday (3/10) at 10 PM EST!
-
Catalyst
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 31
- Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2005 11:42 pm
- Location: Two stars left of Jupiter
Chapter Seven
AN: Sorry it took so long. The laptop dying/reviving itself has been keeping me busy. The next part is halfway written already, though, if that makes anyone feel better (besides me, that is).
Chapter Seven
Lamb is smug and confident striding through the doors of Mars Investigations, his buoyantly cocky smile barely masked by a veil of put-on grief. He doesn’t bother with backup, striding confidently through the doors alone while the shadows of his officers dance against the window in their own police lights.
Logan’s in Veronica’s chair, legs propped on her desk. “Here we are again, Logan.” A pair of handcuffs dangles openly from his belt-loop. “Do you want to get your smartass out of the way now, or are you going to save it for the station?”
“Maybe you’ve let your handbooks get a bit behind, Sheriff” – the word is laced with sarcasm – “but I’m fairly certain you need a new reason every time you arrest someone.”
“Well, Mr. Echolls, we’ve been bringing you in so much lately, it seems the judge is having a special stamp made, just so he can fill out your warrants faster.” His eyes flash cold, and he glances around the seemingly empty office. “Does the Mars family routinely leave you alone in their office? Or is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“I confess!” Logan declared dramatically, throwing his arms out so violently, he should’ve fallen from the teetering chair. “I did it. I burnt down my house.” He pauses, his face theatrically serious. “Now, wait. That doesn’t make much sense. I was in your fair custody when my house went up. And you've pretty much put that case to rest, haven't you sheriff?”
“Lamb doesn’t solve cases, Logan,” Veronica explained, appearing from her father’s office. “He’s just waiting for the special tip that will lead him straight to your arsonist.” She clicks her tongue. “But maybe he’ll be a bit more thorough this time. Seems anyone can pass as an eye-witness these days.”
She’s never seen Lamb truly speechless before, and Veronica thinks that sort-of faking her own death was more than worth it. “Come on, Lamb,” she tells him, patting his cheek condescendingly until he pulls away. “You know it’s not going to be that easy to get rid of me. I’ll be cleaning up your messes for years to come.”
“Lamb, look what was in his...” Sacks trails off as Veronica comes into sight, and the bag of her blood-stained clothes stays clutched between his fingers. “Veronica. What – how – are you alright?”
“Dandy,” she replies, snatching the bag from his hands and dropping it on her desk in the quickest movement Logan thinks he’s ever seen. “That’s not my blood.” She gestures up and down her body, signaling that she is, in fact, whole. “It’s my dog’s.” She sighs. “Yet again, Lamb, you’re tailing the wrong fugitive, and you’ve let the real bad guys fester here for years. The Fitzpatricks broke into my house, probably stole stuff, and killed my dog. It’s a tight ship you run here.” She shakes her head. “Tell me, do the gangs not exist if you don’t see them?”
But Lamb doesn’t look the least bit chastised. “The Fitzpatricks.” He smirks. “You pissed off the Fighting Fitzpatricks. I’m sure you’re daddy’s gonna be real proud.”
There isn’t really much left to say after that.
...
“The Fitzpatricks, Veronica?” Keith paces the room, his eyes caught between his daughter and the wall, the wall and Logan, Logan and his daughter. This was a bad thing he should’ve seen coming.
“I didn’t know, Dad. I didn’t know who they were until... later.” Veronica’s caught in her own words, a moment too late to tangle him in a lie, but absolutely positive that he does not want to know just exactly how she realized they were the Fitzpatricks.
“Later?” Even Logan flinches when Keith spins toward Veronica, crushing her fragile attempt at a detour. “Later than what, Veronica?” She looks away; it’s not worth it to lie, and she has no intentions of telling him this story. He turns to Logan. “What did you do?” The question is aimed at both of them, but Veronica is tight-lipped and well-guarded, whereas Logan’s still fairly new and soft to Keith’s persuasions. “You tell me what you two have gotten into or that little ankle bracelet will be the least of your problems.”
Veronica is shaking her head discreetly, but he’s cracking and she knows it.
“We were at the River Styx.” Veronica’s head face falls into her hands then, carefully keeping her eyes away from her father.
“No,” Keith says. “The two of you aren’t that stupid.” He looks at Veronica. “Tell me you aren’t that stupid.”
“I didn’t know,” she replies, her voice muffled by her palms. “I just thought he was a doctor. It wasn’t written up in his record.”
Keith rolls his eyes. “You are so damn lucky. So ridiculously lucky that no one recognized you.” And thankfully his eyes are on Veronica now, his lecture intended almost solely for her. “You can’t do things like this, Veronica. You aren’t indestructible.”
“I didn’t know.” Her face is out of her hands, but she still avoids his eyes. “I swear, I didn’t know.”
“And that’s the problem. You always have to know what you’re walking into.” He sighs, and it’s a full body exercise. “You’re done with this case, Veronica.”
“But-“
”No. Not a chance in hell.” He looks at Logan, and Logan won’t meet his eyes. His body is rigid, tense, all joints and bone. This boy isn’t soft anymore.
He doesn’t deserve this.
Keith gives Logan a full minute to argue. A full minute to sulk or pout or fight in any way, but his only response is withdrawn. He knew this was coming, knew it had to happen.
He’s not going to let them hurt her either.
“This is my case now,” Keith finally tells him. When Logan’s eyes flash to his, he almost looks alive in a way he hasn’t been in months, years. “But I need you to understand something. I don’t have friends, and I don’t do favors. This is a job. And I’m not your dude.”
...
“He likes to think he’s such a badass,” Veronica tells him, smiling like she hasn’t seen in weeks. “I’m still going to look for the real witness, though. I’m going to help.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt. If your dad can handle this...”
“I’m not giving this up, Logan.” She pauses. “You think I didn’t believe in you, back with Lilly, and over the summer. You think that I haven’t fought for you. Well, I’m not giving up on you now. You have too many enemies, Logan. I’m just trying to keep a balance.”
He doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but when his mind catches up, she’s pressed against the wall and his fingers are pressed into her hips, pulling her closer, closer. She gasps against his lips, and it’s all the invitation he needs to trace his tongue along her lip, teasingly brush it against her own.
When he nips at her lip, he swallows moan that follows, sounding vaguely like his name.
His hands are everywhere – tangled in her hair, pressed against her back, tracing the hem of her shirt, brushing the bare skin beneath – and he thinks that’s okay, because she’s everywhere too. She’s fingertips along his jaw line, a palm at the back of his neck, bare fingers up his spine, a thumb print pressed against his stomach.
His hand brushes her bra, and it’s heady and fast, too, too fast. And suddenly the blood is rushing up, and he’s thinking that her father’s just a small staircase away, and he’s got a license to carry a concealed weapon and a long line of connections that know how to deal with a body.
And then he’s pulling away and she’s leaning in, lips puckered, pink, and sweetly swollen. And he doesn’t really think before he leans in, quickly pressing their lips together before rushing out the door.
Because if he gave her time to think about that, he knows her father would be the least of his worries.
...
“They took my laptop,” she tells her father, her feet perched on his desk. “The apartment was a disaster when I showed up. I doubt there’s anything left from my investigation. I’ll double check when I go home to clean up, though.”
“I called Cliff and asked him to meet Lamb at the house. At least now we know the only thing that will be missing is the alcohol in the liquor cabinet.” He pauses. “He’ll deal with Backup, too. Neither of us needs to go home to that.”
She nods, and the silence falls somewhere between cozy and awkward. Keith watches her toy with a bottle of water, taking tiny sips she doesn’t really want to drink, and decides that there’s no lead-in for his question.
“Are you dating Logan again?”
“No.” She shakes her head as if he’s crazy.
“Are you going to?”
“No. I mean, I don’t... I don’t know.”
“And what about you and Duncan?” Her eyes shift away.
“I don’t know what’s going on. With any of us.”
“They’re friends, Veronica.” Her father’s voice is calm and gentle, rational to a point she doesn’t understand anymore. “They used to be good friends. No matter what, someone’s going to get hurt, but going back and forth isn’t making things better. You need to figure yourself out, and you need to do this right.”
When he leaves the room, he kisses her temple.
“And you’re only eighteen, so I need to pretend that none of this is happening.”
TBC...
Chapter Seven
Lamb is smug and confident striding through the doors of Mars Investigations, his buoyantly cocky smile barely masked by a veil of put-on grief. He doesn’t bother with backup, striding confidently through the doors alone while the shadows of his officers dance against the window in their own police lights.
Logan’s in Veronica’s chair, legs propped on her desk. “Here we are again, Logan.” A pair of handcuffs dangles openly from his belt-loop. “Do you want to get your smartass out of the way now, or are you going to save it for the station?”
“Maybe you’ve let your handbooks get a bit behind, Sheriff” – the word is laced with sarcasm – “but I’m fairly certain you need a new reason every time you arrest someone.”
“Well, Mr. Echolls, we’ve been bringing you in so much lately, it seems the judge is having a special stamp made, just so he can fill out your warrants faster.” His eyes flash cold, and he glances around the seemingly empty office. “Does the Mars family routinely leave you alone in their office? Or is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“I confess!” Logan declared dramatically, throwing his arms out so violently, he should’ve fallen from the teetering chair. “I did it. I burnt down my house.” He pauses, his face theatrically serious. “Now, wait. That doesn’t make much sense. I was in your fair custody when my house went up. And you've pretty much put that case to rest, haven't you sheriff?”
“Lamb doesn’t solve cases, Logan,” Veronica explained, appearing from her father’s office. “He’s just waiting for the special tip that will lead him straight to your arsonist.” She clicks her tongue. “But maybe he’ll be a bit more thorough this time. Seems anyone can pass as an eye-witness these days.”
She’s never seen Lamb truly speechless before, and Veronica thinks that sort-of faking her own death was more than worth it. “Come on, Lamb,” she tells him, patting his cheek condescendingly until he pulls away. “You know it’s not going to be that easy to get rid of me. I’ll be cleaning up your messes for years to come.”
“Lamb, look what was in his...” Sacks trails off as Veronica comes into sight, and the bag of her blood-stained clothes stays clutched between his fingers. “Veronica. What – how – are you alright?”
“Dandy,” she replies, snatching the bag from his hands and dropping it on her desk in the quickest movement Logan thinks he’s ever seen. “That’s not my blood.” She gestures up and down her body, signaling that she is, in fact, whole. “It’s my dog’s.” She sighs. “Yet again, Lamb, you’re tailing the wrong fugitive, and you’ve let the real bad guys fester here for years. The Fitzpatricks broke into my house, probably stole stuff, and killed my dog. It’s a tight ship you run here.” She shakes her head. “Tell me, do the gangs not exist if you don’t see them?”
But Lamb doesn’t look the least bit chastised. “The Fitzpatricks.” He smirks. “You pissed off the Fighting Fitzpatricks. I’m sure you’re daddy’s gonna be real proud.”
There isn’t really much left to say after that.
...
“The Fitzpatricks, Veronica?” Keith paces the room, his eyes caught between his daughter and the wall, the wall and Logan, Logan and his daughter. This was a bad thing he should’ve seen coming.
“I didn’t know, Dad. I didn’t know who they were until... later.” Veronica’s caught in her own words, a moment too late to tangle him in a lie, but absolutely positive that he does not want to know just exactly how she realized they were the Fitzpatricks.
“Later?” Even Logan flinches when Keith spins toward Veronica, crushing her fragile attempt at a detour. “Later than what, Veronica?” She looks away; it’s not worth it to lie, and she has no intentions of telling him this story. He turns to Logan. “What did you do?” The question is aimed at both of them, but Veronica is tight-lipped and well-guarded, whereas Logan’s still fairly new and soft to Keith’s persuasions. “You tell me what you two have gotten into or that little ankle bracelet will be the least of your problems.”
Veronica is shaking her head discreetly, but he’s cracking and she knows it.
“We were at the River Styx.” Veronica’s head face falls into her hands then, carefully keeping her eyes away from her father.
“No,” Keith says. “The two of you aren’t that stupid.” He looks at Veronica. “Tell me you aren’t that stupid.”
“I didn’t know,” she replies, her voice muffled by her palms. “I just thought he was a doctor. It wasn’t written up in his record.”
Keith rolls his eyes. “You are so damn lucky. So ridiculously lucky that no one recognized you.” And thankfully his eyes are on Veronica now, his lecture intended almost solely for her. “You can’t do things like this, Veronica. You aren’t indestructible.”
“I didn’t know.” Her face is out of her hands, but she still avoids his eyes. “I swear, I didn’t know.”
“And that’s the problem. You always have to know what you’re walking into.” He sighs, and it’s a full body exercise. “You’re done with this case, Veronica.”
“But-“
”No. Not a chance in hell.” He looks at Logan, and Logan won’t meet his eyes. His body is rigid, tense, all joints and bone. This boy isn’t soft anymore.
He doesn’t deserve this.
Keith gives Logan a full minute to argue. A full minute to sulk or pout or fight in any way, but his only response is withdrawn. He knew this was coming, knew it had to happen.
He’s not going to let them hurt her either.
“This is my case now,” Keith finally tells him. When Logan’s eyes flash to his, he almost looks alive in a way he hasn’t been in months, years. “But I need you to understand something. I don’t have friends, and I don’t do favors. This is a job. And I’m not your dude.”
...
“He likes to think he’s such a badass,” Veronica tells him, smiling like she hasn’t seen in weeks. “I’m still going to look for the real witness, though. I’m going to help.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt. If your dad can handle this...”
“I’m not giving this up, Logan.” She pauses. “You think I didn’t believe in you, back with Lilly, and over the summer. You think that I haven’t fought for you. Well, I’m not giving up on you now. You have too many enemies, Logan. I’m just trying to keep a balance.”
He doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but when his mind catches up, she’s pressed against the wall and his fingers are pressed into her hips, pulling her closer, closer. She gasps against his lips, and it’s all the invitation he needs to trace his tongue along her lip, teasingly brush it against her own.
When he nips at her lip, he swallows moan that follows, sounding vaguely like his name.
His hands are everywhere – tangled in her hair, pressed against her back, tracing the hem of her shirt, brushing the bare skin beneath – and he thinks that’s okay, because she’s everywhere too. She’s fingertips along his jaw line, a palm at the back of his neck, bare fingers up his spine, a thumb print pressed against his stomach.
His hand brushes her bra, and it’s heady and fast, too, too fast. And suddenly the blood is rushing up, and he’s thinking that her father’s just a small staircase away, and he’s got a license to carry a concealed weapon and a long line of connections that know how to deal with a body.
And then he’s pulling away and she’s leaning in, lips puckered, pink, and sweetly swollen. And he doesn’t really think before he leans in, quickly pressing their lips together before rushing out the door.
Because if he gave her time to think about that, he knows her father would be the least of his worries.
...
“They took my laptop,” she tells her father, her feet perched on his desk. “The apartment was a disaster when I showed up. I doubt there’s anything left from my investigation. I’ll double check when I go home to clean up, though.”
“I called Cliff and asked him to meet Lamb at the house. At least now we know the only thing that will be missing is the alcohol in the liquor cabinet.” He pauses. “He’ll deal with Backup, too. Neither of us needs to go home to that.”
She nods, and the silence falls somewhere between cozy and awkward. Keith watches her toy with a bottle of water, taking tiny sips she doesn’t really want to drink, and decides that there’s no lead-in for his question.
“Are you dating Logan again?”
“No.” She shakes her head as if he’s crazy.
“Are you going to?”
“No. I mean, I don’t... I don’t know.”
“And what about you and Duncan?” Her eyes shift away.
“I don’t know what’s going on. With any of us.”
“They’re friends, Veronica.” Her father’s voice is calm and gentle, rational to a point she doesn’t understand anymore. “They used to be good friends. No matter what, someone’s going to get hurt, but going back and forth isn’t making things better. You need to figure yourself out, and you need to do this right.”
When he leaves the room, he kisses her temple.
“And you’re only eighteen, so I need to pretend that none of this is happening.”
TBC...
Knowing that it's coming doesn't keep it from happening...
Always Red in the Rearview
Come to my author chat Sunday (3/10) at 10 PM EST!
Always Red in the Rearview
Come to my author chat Sunday (3/10) at 10 PM EST!